Poonam Pandey, Hot Foreplay

In a way, she found it romantic. It was like Mr. and Mrs. Green.He asked, “How was work?”“Oh, it was okay. Nothing too interesting happened,” she answered. It was an informal job that didn’t require her to dress up for work, a fact that she had appreciated for a long time.Harry asked, “What do you do anyway?”“I’m a claims adjuster for an insurance company,” she answered.It was a part-time job at a relatively small company and didn’t pay much. The hours were flexible and the dress code was lax, so it was convenient. She had gotten it to help fill the hours when the kids were off at school, but the extra money did help a little.“I know that, but what do you do?”“When someone files a claim, I read it over and determine how much we are supposed to pay,” she said. She decided to give a little more detail. “I read the reason for the claim. If we cover it, I double check the amount of the charges against the allowed amounts for the procedures. I check for limits, deductions, and then. The clink of the silverware as she cut her food. The coolness of it in her hand. The muscle, or perhaps tendon, in her left forearm that was twitching quietly. She’d first noticed it two days after William had been taken away. Sometimes it would stop for a few seconds, as though recovering, but mostly it just patiently continued its simple beat. For twenty-seven days now it had pulsed, intermittently, without sensation. Like a beacon. Like a reminder. Andrea finally looked up at the thing across the table from her. It was watching her with sad, sunken eyes. She felt neither pity nor empathy for it, but studied it carefully. It had been sleeping poorly lately, tossing and turning deep into the night and often waking early the next morning. It had taken to drinking coffee in the evening and spending most of the night watching TV or reading books. Still, It must be sleeping sometime. Maybe at work, or when it was supposed to be at the gym. Regardless, It rarely slept at home. And It.
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